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627. Between a River and a Hard Place
🕑 Added 2024-04-07 07:00:04 +0000 UTCMartel did not know Eleanor could track. Not to this extent, at least. He could spot a footprint and see where it led, of course, and if he saw another, he knew to follow it as well. Eleanor read broken branches and disturbed grass, which to Martel simply looked like any other part of the undergrowth. "Where did you learn this?"
"My father took me hunting when I was a child. He had no sons to teach, after all. And in my first year as an acolyte, we went on a trip out of Morcaster to be taught this."
"Great. I was taught how to set people on fire."
Eleanor looked around, establishing the direction to take. "That may be necessary," he mumbled. "But we should avoid discovery at all cost. Even if we kill them all, their absence will be noted."
"They must be so far ahead, I doubt we'll catch up to them."
"They might decide to go back the way they came, or they settle down and make camp for the night. We should be cautious and avoid unnecessary conversation, just like when we make our own patrols."
Just like when fighting a war. "I'll keep using my magical sense," he suggested. "Check for heat."
She nodded. "Let us be on our way."
***
They moved cautiously through the forest, following the trail picked up by Eleanor. Martel did as promised, constantly using magic to feel his surroundings. The path took them almost directly west until they approached the river, where it turned north along the bank, upstream. They continued in this direction for a long while until suddenly, Eleanor crouched low.
Immediately, Martel followed suit, glancing around. He used his magical sense as well, but he found no heat shape other than the woman in front of him. As she turned her head to look at him, he replied with a questioning expression. She raised her hand carefully and pointed between the trees towards the river.
Martel followed her finger with his gaze, looking across the water until he saw it. Red cloaks moving in between the reeds. The distance was too great for his magic to have felt them, and it had not occurred to him to be watchful of someone on the other side of the river.
He looked back at Eleanor with an unspoken question on his face, pointing first ahead and then behind them. She indicated the former choice, and when he nodded in acceptance, she turned away and continued forward, moving a little further inland to be better shielded from hostile eyes across the river.
They moved at a slower pace, and at times, they had to stop while Eleanor found the trail again; walking further away from the shore than the Khivans had done made it harder for her to track them. Martel also noticed despite the foliage keeping out most light that the day grew old; sunset would be two or three hours away. He felt reasonably certain they could find their way back to their shelter even in the dark, but he disliked the idea of stumbling about in case more Khivan soldiers were in the vicinity.
When the journey had taken them from early afternoon into late evening, Martel felt it. A signal of heat so strong, he barely needed his magic to notice it. A fire, burning somewhere ahead of him. He could not tell much more; distance and all the surrounding trees made it impossible for him to tell if any humans were near, but he felt convinced that was the case. Ahead of them, the Khivans had made camp for the night.
Martel's heart sank realising this; it meant they would be in the forest tomorrow as well. Between this and seeing the legionaries on the western bank, it did not bode well for their hidden sanctuary. He reached out to touch Eleanor by the shoulder; when she turned to look at him, he mouthed the word 'campfire' to her.
She nodded in understanding and immediately began to retreat. Besides building a fire for the night, the Khivans would be fetching water and maybe forage for food in the vicinity; staying was too risky and would yield nothing, as they had no intentions of engaging or revealing themselves. On swift but quiet feet, the two mages pulled back, deeper into the forest.
***
Night fell as they walked to their shelter. It slowed their journey, much like being cautious had done it earlier in the day; they were forced to follow their own trail back for several miles until they reached more familiar ground and could recognise the path home. Neither of them spoke. Eleanor probably maintained silence because it was the wise thing to do, even if it felt unlikely any Khivans would be about this far from the rest of the group; Martel kept quiet as he did not know how to voice his concerns.
The Asterians were on the other side of the river, and it did not seem they had any intentions of crossing it. Thus, the two exiles should be as safe from the legionaries tomorrow as they had been yesterday. Likewise, the Khivans had not even come close to where he and Eleanor had set up residence. Given that they felt comfortable enough to start a fire for the night, they were clearly not spooked or worried about wizards prowling the woods. It seemed to Martel that there should be nothing to hinder him and Eleanor from continuing their existence in the forest; at the same time, he knew the presence of both Asterian and Khivan soldiers bode ill.
They finally reached the thicket that served as their home. Eleanor unstrung her bow and set it aside. "Can we discuss our findings tomorrow? I do feel tired from the hunt this morning along with stalking the Khivans all day, and I would rather have a fresh mind when we talk about this."
"Sure. There's nothing urgent about it, after all." They both lay down to rest, but for the first time since arriving in the forest, Martel did not sleep easily.
~
Martel's character sheet (no change).
